


I Am No Animal

by KyleBlamedCanada



Category: South Park
Genre: Apocalypse, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Future, I'll add more tags as shit goes down, Stan and Kyle don't know each other before this, YEAH JUST SO YOU KNOW THERES GONNA BE SOME MIND FUCKERY HERE SO WATCH OUT, all characters 18+ unless said so, cannibal, cause like I made this thing at 3am with a friend so shit might change, lets see how long I can go before getting bored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15370644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyleBlamedCanada/pseuds/KyleBlamedCanada
Summary: A virus spreads across the earth, causing humans to become uncontrollable and begin eating one another.Classified as "The Cannibal Viris", the president executes an order to capture and detain all those affected by it.Kyle, to his dismay, is captured three years after the outbreak.Every Cannibal has a caretaker, someone who looks after and treats every patient to their needs.Stan Marsh, an ex-veterinarian, is new in the government facility and is given a top-secret assignment."Consult Patient KB5-26."Being confined in a prison does something to you.The animal in you begins to wake up.





	I Am No Animal

          When he used to wake, he would claw at the stone-white walls.

          Now, he would just lay on his belly, tiredly staring at the high-security door from his metal cot. The marks of panic from possible years ago were never fixed and stayed as a reminder of his forever confinement in the facility. He had long forgotten the name. Before he was captured, he remembered some sort of school project that he was sure he aced.

          He could hardly remember what that project was trying to teach them. Don't become infected? Easier said than done.

          The young man stood, a wave of dizziness making him stumble. This was common, and he was quick to catch his balance. He carefully walked across the room and pressed his hands against the thick glass wall that separated him from his freedom. His eyes glanced up at the camera that stared at him from the door.

 **They**  became uneasy when he eyed the door, and he laughed with amusement.

          He stepped back from the cool glass wall. As much as it would help his head, there was a vent that always blew cold air. It was next to the glass wall, out of his reach and pumped oxygen like a casino. He remembered that casinos pumped extra oxygen into the system to keep people awake. Also like a casino, there were no windows or clocks. He had lost track of time a long time ago.

          He reached up to the vent, standing on his toes, trying to touch the metal. In the corner of his eye, he could see the camera blinking a rapid red. After a few more attempts of reaching for the vent, he relaxed, feeling another wave of dizziness.

          His stomach cramped from being on his tiptoes for so long, making him stumble and slam his side against the cool glass wall. He panted and pressed his forehead against the glass. His stomach made a noise. A painful and sorrowful growl, begging for food.

          He looked down at his fingers and mindlessly shoved them into his mouth, tasting and licking them. It wasn't until he bit them that he removed them from his mouth and growled, scolding himself. He wasn't going to eat himself just for a snack. He had one, six periods of sleep ago. His hunger was punishment for it. He stumbled to his bed and collapsed on his side, staring at the door again. Who knew how many days had passed? **They** never tell him the date or the time. He hates **them**.

 

* * *

 

          He must have napped. He doesn't know for how long, but the passage of time is clear. The smell of a meat had awoken him.

          He sat up and lunged at the meat, sliding across the tile floor and slamming into the glass again. His hands grabbed the messy clump, biting into it without a second thought. He freezes for a moment.

          Warm and rotten. Of course it was. This was still apart of his punishment after all.

          He chewed it anyways, as revolting as the taste was he still needed something to eat. He swallows it, a stinking chunk of slime forced into his body. He won't puke, not like the first time. He's used to the punishments, this wasn't the first time he broke  **their** rules. And it wouldn't be the last.

          "Ah...uh..."

          He bit into the meat again and looked through the glass wall at the man. They stare at each other, one with a white coat and clipboard and the other with blood dribbling down his hands as he chewed.

          The trapped man swallowed his second bite and grinned at the new man, "Your first day?"

          The man with the clipboard cleared his throat, looking at the papers in his hands. He was nervous, you didn't have to smell it. The hungry man's nostrils were filled with rotten raw meat anyways.

          "P-Patient KB5-26?" the new man stuttered and gulped, staring at the other.

          The patient didn't answer, continuing to eat as the new lab boy looked through his papers again. 

          The man in white looked back down at the bloody patient, "Patient KB5-26?"

         The patient licked his lips and his blood-stained fingers, trying to get as much food as he could into his stomach. It was a leg, fat and limp. The cuts on the skin were thin and the bone was removed. The skin, muscle, fat, and blood was all for him to drink. It was more of a snack than a feast but, even through punishment, **they** wouldn't dare let him die.

          The scientist repeated the number. The patient's attention stayed with his scarce meal until everything he could swallow was in his stomach. He looked up at the man in the lab coat.

          "Yes?" patient KB5-26 responded with a grin, his sharp teeth showing off the blood he drank.

          The man gulped, fear clear in his eyes. He took a breath before speaking again.

          "My name is Doctor Marsh, I will be your new caretaker," the doctor, not a scientist, seemed to relax after the introduction. "I expect you to be on your best behavior."

          Patient KB5-26 laughed and stood. Towering over the doctor, he wiped the blood from his mouth.

          "Drop the formality," he grinned. "Do you know how many caretakers I've had?"

          "Eight...teen before me," Doctor Marsh stared up at KB5-26.

          "You are number nineteen. How do you feel about that? You know what happened to number eighteen?" the patient felt laughter tickle the back of his throat.

          "They briefed me on the situation..." the Doctor trailed off and looked back down at his notes.

          KB5-26 made an outfit giggle before covering his mouth, his smile not disappearing, "He tasted so amazing, I wish you were here to watch!"

          Something just to scare the Doctor, and it worked like a charm. He was quaking in his boots. Doctor Marsh flipped through his papers before looking back up at KB5-26.

          "I...I'm here for your daily questionnaire."

          "Don't taunt me."

          Doctor Marsh nodded from fear and sighed, "How did you feel before your feeding?"

          KB5-26 hummed gently as he thought, "This time you starved me until all I did was sleep."

          The Doctor wrote down the information and asked another, "How did you feel during your feeding?"

          "Hm...relieved, I guess. You didn't let me die this time," he grinned.

          It went like this for a while. "Are you calmer after your feeding?" "Have you learned your lesson?" Questions prodding at emotions and causes. "I guess you could call it that." "I don't remember being taught anything." Answers were vaguely said and lied about.

          He loved when  **they** didn't understand.

          "Ah..." Doctor Marsh looked at the last question and bit his lip before he looked back up, "It says your name is 'Kyle...Bro...Bro-love-ski'?"

          KB5-26 took a long breath through his nose, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the chilling class. He hadn't heard his name in so long, he almost forgot his last name. But never his first. Kyle. His name. A reminder of the life he used to have. The life he yearned for. 

          His eyes opened as the Doctor continued, "Kyle, do you remember anything before the outbreak?"

          KB5-26, Kyle, shook his head, "Broflovski."

          "Huh?"

          "It's pronounced...Broflovski," He grinned again, this time a nicer smile with teeth sharp to rip the skin right off the bone.

          "Ah, yes. I'm sorry. Brof-loaf-ski."

          Fear had disappeared from the Doctor the longer he chatted with Kyle, it made the patient wonder what his job was before all this, "And to answer your question, the virus doesn't affect my memory. Only my intentions."

          Kyle growled and snapped at the glass, his smile shining with specks of dried blood. Doctor Marsh stepped back, tense, before relaxing at the realization that the patient wouldn't harm him.

          "I-I see that. Anyways, your daily feedings should start up again tomorrow. I hope we can get along. You can call me Stan," the Doctor smiled at Kyle.

          "Stan..."

          Kyle Broflovski. Patient KB5-26.

          The Cannibal.

          "I hope so, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so here's a thing that we made up last week. Let's see how far we can get before I get bored and cancel this shit.
> 
> Don't expose me for my fetish.


End file.
